


The Phrase That Pays

by Em_Jaye



Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angry Steve Rogers, Counselor Sam Wilson, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Helpful Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve does best when he has a mission to complete.  The one Sam gives him isn't exactly what he had in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phrase That Pays

Steve hated feeling like this.  He was tight and on edge and snapping at everyone and everything that crossed his path and he wasn’t even apologetic about it.

                He’d always thought he could handle anything that came at him. With everything he’d been through, it seemed unlikely that there was anything else looming out there that would throw him off his game.

                But she had.  She’d thrown him off his game from the start—it was what she did.  What she had done.  She really couldn’t do it anymore.

                Peggy had been dead for two weeks.  She’d gone peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by her family and friends.  And Steve had been in Nicaragua.  It was Sharon who’d called him and told him the news.  Sharon, who’d made sure he was present for the funeral.  Sharon, who really deserved better than the cold, detached treatment to which she'd been subjected.

                He didn’t want to talk about it.  Not with Natasha or Clint, who kept looking at him out of the corner of their eyes like his might explode at any moment.  Not with Tony who at least was leaving him alone for the time being.  And definitely not with Bucky who had a world of his own problems to worry about.

                The only person who had sat him down and stared at him until he talked was Sam.  Sam who was supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Who was supposed to be his friend and his teammate.  Sam, who had done nothing, as far as he was concerned, except send him all over town on this utterly bizarre mission.

                _Bizarre and useless mission,_ the sulking, wounded part of his brain muttered as he pocketed the fourth business card he’d acquired that day.

                As if on cue, his cell phone buzzed and Sam’s face appeared on the screen.  “Rogers,” he answered with needless formality.

                “You doing your homework?” Sam asked. At the very least, Steve considered, he didn’t sound like he was mocking him. 

                Still, he rolled his eyes.  “Yeah,” he said gruffly.

                “Everyone you meet wearing blue?”

                “Yeah,” he said again, running a hand through his hair.  “Look, I really don’t think—”

                “Call me back when you’ve got them all,” Sam cut him off.

                He felt his brow furrow.  “How am I supposed to know when I’ve got them all?”

                “You’ll know,” Sam said and hung up.

                Steve looked at his phone for a few long moments before he sighed and tucked it back into his pocket, suddenly remembering that he was not alone.

                Beside him, Darcy looked up and offered him a nervous smile.  “Uh, thanks for coming with me,” she said as he took the bakery boxes she was struggling with from her hands.  “I appreciate the help.”

                He didn’t know Jane’s assistant all that well.  He thought she seemed nice; sweet and smart and capable of more than just running and fetching things for the science department—or in today’s case, Pepper Potts.  But that was none of his business.  He was only helping her because it was part of Sam’s mission.

                _Sam’s bizarre and useless mission_ , the voice in his head reminded him. _Say yes to the first thing that’ll get you out into the city,_ Sam had said. _Doesn’t matter what it is.  Just get out._

                And he’d gotten out.  Because Darcy had looked so utterly overwhelmed by the list she was given. And because he’d said yes before he could even stop himself when she’d asked, “Wouldn’t feel like wasting all that super soldier strength on helping me hunt and gather all this stuff, would you?”

                And even though she’d given him an out—she claimed she was just kidding, that he didn’t have to help her, that she was fine doing her job all on her own—he’d gone with her anyway.  Because Sam had told him to.  And because she really did seem like a nice girl who could use the help.

                He forced what was probably a tight smile and gave her a nod.  “I wasn’t doing anything today,” he admitted.  “Didn’t seem fair to make you run all over the city for a party you’re not even throwing.”

                Darcy smiled.  “Well, Ms. Potts has been really great to me and if I’m running errands for her there’s less of a chance that I’ll get blown up or sucked into a wormhole or something.”

                He almost laughed at that.  Luckily Darcy took his faint smile as response enough and carried on to the next destination on Pepper’s list.

                There were four more stops on the list: the florist, the caterer, some place that sold infused oils and other ridiculous things for several gallons of lavender water, and the dry cleaner for a dress that Darcy commented was probably worth three months of her salary and was therefore too afraid to touch.

                By the time they were making their way back to the tower, laden with boxes and bags, it was just after noon and Steve had seven business cards in his pocket.  They dropped their purchases with the doorman and before he could make up an excuse to go and be alone, Darcy was motioning to the food truck outside and insisting on buying him lunch as a thank you.

                And Steve was never one to turn down anything that came off of a food truck.

                “So what kind of party are _you_ throwing?” she asked sitting on the opposite end of the bench they’d found.

                Steve blinked.  “Me?” he asked, swallowing the last bite of his hotdog.  “I’m not throwing a party.”

                “Oh,” she looked like she momentarily regretted asking him anything, but recovered quickly and took another bite of her own food.  “I just figured,” she swallowed thickly. “With all those cards you were picking up today.”

                He pursed his lips and looked down, feeling embarrassed.  “They’re for someone else,” he decided finally, hoping she didn’t pry for details.

                She didn’t.  They sat in companionable silence for a while, letting the sounds of the Manhattan traffic trump any attempt at conversation. With their hotdogs devoured and nothing left to say Steve was infinitely grateful when Darcy was the first to stand up and head for the door back inside. 

                He thought he might be free to return to his busy schedule of aggressive solitude and avoiding people until he felt better, but Darcy was met by the doorman who insisted Pepper’s purchases were not his responsibility.  There was a lot of heated arguing between the two before Steve heard himself sigh and volunteer to help her carry everything up to Pepper’s office.

                It was fine, he told himself as they rode the elevator up together.  It would only take another minute or two to drop everything off with Pepper’s assistant and then he’d be free to figure out what he was supposed to do with the rest of his day.

                “Steve?” Darcy’s voice was tentative, quieter than usual as they waited for the elevator to take them back to their respective floors.

                “Yeah?” he asked with a glance down in her direction.

                The doors opened.  “Uh, I know I already said thanks for helping me but—I—really appreciate it.”

                He gave another tight smile. “No problem.”

                “No, I just…” she looked flustered. “I mean, I know you’d rather be alone.  After what…” she stopped and pressed her full lips together.  They stepped inside the car and waited for the doors to close. “I just mean…” she furrowed her brow. “I mean, I know we’re not friends—but you helped me out today.  And if you wanted to talk about what’s…” she stopped and swallowed. “You know, what’s going on…if you ever needed an ear. I’ve got two and I owe you.  So…”

                Steve felt his jaw clench out of reflex for a moment before he stopped himself and took a deep breath.  “I was hoping I was doing a better job of—” he said before he could think too long on whether he even wanted to respond to her offer.  “I just keep thinking of what she’d say if she saw me acting like this.”

                Darcy’s lips twitched into an understanding smile. “You mean Peggy?”

                At the sound of her name, he allowed himself a brief smile.  “She was always so pulled together. On my first day at Lehigh.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve realized he shouldn’t be telling her this.  That this was _his_ story, _his_ Peggy he was sharing with her.  But now that he’d started he couldn’t seem to stop. “There was this guy…this…big, crass bully type of a guy named Hodge who was heckling her. Making jokes, hitting on her, that kind of stuff.”

                Darcy rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a prince.”

                “And Peggy…Peggy didn’t even flinch,” he said, shaking his head. “She leveled him with one punch and went right back to work.” When he looked back down at Darcy, she was smiling. “I wanted so badly to impress her—to try and make her like me.  But…” he shook his head again. “I didn’t have to try. She did anyway. And I just…” Alarmingly, a lump was rising quick in the back of his throat, stinging his eyes and behind his nose.  “And I’ve gotten through a lot of things in my life by asking myself what would Peggy do…” he gave an involuntary sniffle, wishing he had remained clammed up, that he could stop this flow of words and feelings.

                “Steve…”

                “And now she’s gone and I never…” he was too far down this rabbit hole to stop now to do anything but keep going. The things he’d been gulping back, the things he wasn’t ready to say when Sam had asked him a week ago, things he wasn’t sure he was ever going to admit out loud were suddenly bubbling to the surface.  Lining up to fall out of his mouth. “I should have listened to her,” he said with another hard swallow. “I should have fought harder to get back to her—I should’ve…”

                “Steve, you—” Darcy stopped herself before she went any further.

                “I shouldn’t be taking it this hard,” he said with a mental kick to his own ribcage. “She expected me to be stronger—to be able to handle anything.  And I have to face that she’s…” he coughed. “She’s gone and she’s not coming back and she couldn’t wait for me.  And I…” the button illuminating his floor darkened as the elevator slowed to a stop. “I’m just going to go.  I’m…” the doors opened. “I’m sorry.” 

                The doors closed before he could catch if she had any response. Having vomited his emotions all over her, he wanted nothing more than to escape her sad, sympathetic eyes and thoughtful frown.

                He didn’t have time to dwell or even to give in to his bubbling emotions as he made his way down the hallway to the front door of his apartment.  His phone had started buzzing again.

                If Sam could tell his voice sounded thick with emotion, he didn’t mention it. He got right to business.  “All done with your errands?” he asked while Steve unlocked his door.

                “Yeah,” he replied brusquely.  Definitely done.  After that disaster with Darcy he was fairly committed to the idea of solitary confinement for the next ninety days. “Seven cards,” he said, closing the door behind him.

                “Good,” he could almost hear Sam’s nod of approval.  Already, his heart rate was slowing, his eyes drying and the sting behind his nose fading.  He was going to be fine.  He’d get through this day and the next and if he avoided Darcy Lewis for the rest of his life, everything would be just perfect.  “Now go through and circle one letter from each name, first and last.  Then write them down.”

                Steve sighed and did as he was told, fanning the business cards out on the table.  He grabbed the nearby tablet and wrote out what he’d circled.  C-F-E-E-T-B-N-R-P-O-S-D-Y-O

                “Okay…” he tilted his head in confusion. “Now what?”

                “Now,” Sam cleared his throat.  “Jumble.”

                “Jumble?” he repeated dubiously.

                “Yep.  Anagram.  Just keep mixing up the letters until you find it.”

                “Find what?”

                “Whatever you need to hear, Steve.”  And like he usually did, Sam hung up before he Steve could say another word. 

                Steve frowned and looked at the letters in front of him.  After a few moments contemplation, he started writing.

                 _P-O-S-E  B-O-Y_

_F-E-E-T  B-O-R-N  C-O-P-Y_

_T-O-O  C-R-E-E-P-Y_

_B-O-D-Y  N-O T-E-R-F_

_N-O-B-O-D-Y_ —

                Steve stopped and felt his breath catch and that lump rise again in his throat.  He clenched his jaw and pressed the pen back to the paper, carefully arranging the letters for the last time.

                _NOBODY’S PERFECT_

 His vision swam momentarily he sat at his table, staring at the words he’d put together.  If he closed his eyes, he could see her standing across from him, one hand on her hip with that smile she was always trying to hide.  He could remember exactly the sound of her voice, the subtle floral scent of her hair, the sparkle behind her brown eyes.

                He ran his thumb over the message one more time and smiled to himself. “You were, Peg,” he said out loud.  “You were.”

**Author's Note:**

> So. This was inspired (ripped directly, whatever) by one of my favorite moments of Fringe and also by the horrifying memory of the time that I bled my feelings all over a stranger in an elevator three weeks after my mother died. It's been in my heart for a little bit and I figured I'd just send it out into the ether. So...enjoy? Let me know what you think?


End file.
